The Walls
by MacDixon Love
Summary: Daryl is having all these really confusing, funny feeling for another member of the group. Another man and a married on at that! How will he deal with something so confusing in a post apocalyptic world? Takes place directly after Season Two finale. Slash, Dimes pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Originally meant to be a second one-shot to Loveliest Contradiction but really this ficlet has taken on its own little life. So, after much contemplation, I have decided to make this little baby its own. Most likely to be a five shot… (is that even a thing? If not it is now.) Oh! And this is my first work that my beta has taken her very colorful pens to! Isn't that exciting? So, any mistakes you find are HERS. Thanks so much EbilTeddehBare for working on this ^^**

**Warning: cheap excuse for the English language, potty mouthed men, slash, low self esteem of a man who obviously shouldn't have low anything…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead or any characters.**

The Walls.

Chapter One: At first.

I couldn't take it any more, it was driving me crazy. I was becoming deranged. I never really was one to envy, it just didn't suit someone that had so little, but this? I was seething with it. I could feel the icy slush of jealousy pumping through my veins with each drowning heart beat. How could she think he was hers? At one point she had the papers to prove it but couldn't she see that he didn't want her? Couldn't she see the cringe on his face whenever she got too close, or the muted disgust when her arm slunk around him? She had to be blind along with stupid. She was a pig. A filthy fucking temptress. A courtesan wearing the mask of the ever caring wife.

Lori was a slut, there was no denying it. Everyone knew she had been bumping uglies with Shane while Rick was somewhere out there, running away from walkers. Hell, I'd stumbled upon them more than once, writhing in the dirt. Disgusting. She wanted everything. People could only have but so much, couldn't she understand that? It wasn't a hard concept. She was already so close to giving up Rick before, she had happily run off when she thought he was dead, why couldn't she just give up now? I couldn't stand her using him like that. It was so vile. She'd sit there in front of God and everybody, wrapped around Rick like a scarf, it made me sick. Borderline pornographic is what it was.

Sure, I was mad at her, but what about him? He was the one that just wouldn't end it. He just couldn't tell her no. Was he so weak that he couldn't keep that damned succubus out of his bed? Did he just keep her there because of Carl? I could only hope it was something simple like that, some easy fix, because I wanted him. It was cracking my heart into itty bitty shards, but I still wanted him.

I couldn't help the forlorn glances I knew I'd been sending him all day, but it wasn't like I was the only one, the farm had just been overrun, adding to the death toll numbers. We'd lost some good people. Andrea had been fiery, albeit a complete bitch, but I had just begun to like her. Patricia had been swarmed, the sweet, caring woman that had changed my bandages getting torn to bits. Shane, but no one was going to lose sleep over him being gone. And Jimmy. I didn't know him well enough to feel upset though. I did feel guilty that my frustration was for something different than the rest of the group. They were all grieving their almost safe have. I just hated Lori.

Even to myself I sounded like a jealous mistress when in all actuality I was far less than that. When I looked at Rick like he held the answers of the world in his palm, I'm certain he saw me as a mildly intelligent monkey. Maybe a trusted hound dog, if I was lucky. That hurt, but it was something I could live with. However, I couldn't live with all the pain Rick was in. His shoulders had begun some sort of dialogue with gravity, creeping towards his chest, and soon the floor. I knew from experience there was only so much a person could handle before they just snapped. How many times had I seen it in my life? Hell if I could count that high.

I just wanted to help Rick. Stand together in some unbreakable force and slaughter all those evil things lurking in the night. I could be his backup, his sidekick, that extra shoulder to take all the really heavy, super painful stuff. I could do the job Lori was supposed to have. There wasn't any reason for him to get his hands so dirty when mine were already caked in metaphorical mud. I didn't want to see Rick break. That would hurt so much more than anything I'd been through so far.

Lori was holding him back and she needed to go. I wasn't going to hurt her, nu-uh. My momma taught me better than to hurt a woman, even if she was hateful, but she still needed out. Maybe I wouldn't have to work too hard though. Something had happened that afternoon which had changed things. Right before dinner and Rick's ground breaking anti-democratical speech, Lori just didn't seem so keen to be around her husband. She even flinched when he instinctively reached for her. Things were looking up in this little, apocalyptic area of Georgia. I could even see the stars winking down at me.

It was long after the others had closed their eyes and the moon had sucked the sky dry of its color, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I had climbed the hill adjacent the riverside camp area and was now sitting on the stream's stone dam. I liked the sound the water made against the decrepit wall, it helped me process all my many thoughts. Rick, Lori, Rick, Lori, Walkers, Rick, Lori. It was all I thought about, which was exceptionally frustrating. I couldn't focus on a good hunt anymore without those two butting in, and I didn't even know when the last time Merle had even crossed my mind. It was nice being alone in nature, away from the claustrophobia of the group, and away from my crush with all his baggage. I didn't like this feeling of being jerked around. I was exhausted of all the tiny gestures and smiles Rick always gave me. I couldn't decipher them and they left me lightheaded or sluggish like I'd taken a few too many hits to the brain. Maybe my old man had knocked a few screws loose somewhere along the way and problems were only surfacing now. It wasn't like I would really know how I was supposed to feel, all this romance shit was pretty new to me.

The crossbow was gripped tightly in my hands. The second the branch behind me snapped, a bolt at the ready and finger securely on the trigger.


	2. The same old illusion

**Warning: confusing POV skips, language, slash, silly men being silly.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own the Walking Dead, its plotlines or characters. It's all in good fun, love.**

The Walls.

Chapter Two: The same old illusion.

_Great, now that I've killed my best friend and my wife hates me, I can solidify my position as dictator._ Rick thought coolly, nearly face palming at his own stupidity. He was beginning to sound like a lunatic and already felt like one. He'd stormed away form the group after his award winning performance and managed to get himself turned around in the woods. Not that I really mattered, Lori wouldn't let him sleep in their tent anyway. Where had he come in at? This had to be the way back, he was almost certain.

Through the tree beak ahead he could just see two splotches of random white. He squinted his eyes trying his best to identify the familiar white patches. Angel wings? Rick's brow drew together in frustrated confusion until he realized it was actually Daryl sitting in front of him wearing his biker vest. He had to admit that the wings suited the hunter in the way he was always able to disappear, escape whenever he wanted. A bird flying just out of reach. He was about to walk up to him and steal the open space next to him until he remembered all the biting glares he'd been on the receiving end of that day. At the best of times Daryl was unapproachable, but now that he was angry? Rick feared for his life. Daryl remained silently perched on the stone, a living gargoyle, his heavy sigh being the only thing breaking the silence. It was a good idea to leave him alone, Rick mused, turning around with one last look to the dingy feathers on the broadly muscled back. His traitorous feet had other plans snapping across twigs of all sizes in sound recreation of a cheap western film. Daryl, the diligent soldier, had already popped up, his crossbow ready to fire and a scowl on his face.

"What the hell, Grimes?" he huffed, lowering his weapon to rest against his thigh, his arms bulging against his cobalt blue shirt. "You make it a habit tah scare people half tah death?"

"Ah, sorry," Rick waved his hands in apology hoping to sooth the twitching, hyperactive man in front of him. Daryl had a tendency to snap over little things, especially privacy invasion and destruction of personal peace. At the quarry Daryl had literally kicked Glenn in the ass for interrupting his 'Zen time' among other offenses like borrowing one of the Dixon's knives without asking. "I was just," he flailed his arms a bit, a strained smile twitching at his lips as he pointed at the nature around him, "taking a late night walk." even to his own ears it sounded questionable and almost as if her were asking Daryl for confirmation. The younger nodded in understanding and plunked back down to his seat on the stone barricade. Rick felt a little flutter of joy when he realized that Daryl trusted him enough to show him his back. Weeks ago the huntsman was a jumpy mess whenever people were around him, scrambling to keep track of them all, always fearing a knife in the back that wouldn't come. Was he finally adjusting to living with their colorful new family? A lot had changed in a few weeks though. Shane had started going off the deep end a long time ago, slowly becoming unreliable and dropping a lot of his daily duties to go off on whatever paranoid venture he decided was more important than his responsibilities. Daryl and Rick had stated to spend a lot more time together since Daryl had been drafted to pick up schizophrenic maniac's slack. Many hours were spent planning out searches that would be fruitless, rationing out chores to unwilling survivors, and skinning dead things. Rick felt it was criminal for Daryl to have all of Shane's jobs along with going hunting nearly every day. He'd slowly built enough courage up to help the hunter. They could almost have a decent conversation together now.

Daryl had this secret charm that he kept bottled up. Sometimes he'd let it slip out into his crystal blue eyes and little, knowing smirks. It all drove Rick shithouse nuts. Really, he didn't know his own asshole form a hole in the ground thanks to all those sparkling, pearly whites Dixon kept hidden under his tight lips. He sort of wished that the dark haired man would smile more, but knew that would drive him further into insanity, doing backhand springs towards the loony bin, more like. In all the awkward, hushed conversations they'd had, Rick had really gotten to know Daryl. Not as well as he'd like to, but in the general sense. Where he'd first slapped a "white supremacist racist hick" label on Daryl and filed him away, he was starting to realize that he couldn't have been farther from the truth. Daryl's brother had been frightening, a starving pit-bull with a too tight collar, just waiting to take a chunk out of the next piece of fresh meat. he had assumed the younger would be a cookie cutter version of the older. A druggie and a burden. Daryl wasn't any of those things, and it seemed like his only similarity to Merle was the sleeve aversion. He did have a real potential at be dangerous though. A pit-bull puppy that could grow up mean and vicious or sweet and protective. Someone just had to be there to pat and love the little guy so he wouldn't feel all lonely and worthless. Rick already had his resume in hand, rallying to fill the position.

Gingerly, Rick inched forward, unsure if the other man had dismissed him or invited him to stay. With Daryl it was a coin flip either way. "Mind if I sit?"


	3. A Chip

**A/N: So many fictions! So little time! This has been a long time coming. Oh, and this was all stitched together by my Voodoo witch doctor- er- I mean Beta, Cranberrrry! Really it wouldn't exist without her so if you like it, go thank her, she's nice =) I still have the same beta she just decided to change her name.**

**Warning: lazy author, mild language, I probably rated this wrong but hey best be on the safe side!**

**Disclaimer: Not for profit just for sick little effers like me that get off on this fictiony stuff! I do not own the Walking Dead**

The Walls.

Chapter three: A Chip.

Of course it would be Rick, the man had a knack for popping his little damn head up at the most inopportune times. I swear he could read minds. I think I growled something at him, but really I wasn't sure what. I couldn't listen to my own mouth with Rick standing there screwing up the universal flow. No one could mess a man's Zen up like Rick Grimes.

He seemed so confused that we were out here, alone together. As if he weren't the one to walk away from camp, all alone into the woods. I guess it was kind of odd how we always ended up just us two, like all the people of the group just sort of gravitated away when we got within arms reach of each other yet we managed to get so much closer to one another. Must be some freaky supernatural magnetism. That would be a laugh.

At first I had hated it, despised it even. I didn't know what to say to him without salivating on my feet and I was always paranoid that I'd somehow manage to accidentally grope him- not that I would be opposed to that, but there would be hell to pay. Rick made it easy for me to be around, talking to me instead of at me like everyone else. He talked just enough to fill the void between us, but not so much that I wanted to hit him.

All in all it was pleasant, I even found myself replying unconsciously. Maybe Merle had been wrong and I wasn't socially retarded after all.

My crush on Rick grew with all the old cop stories and companionable silences. Sometimes I'd see him sitting there just looking at me. At first I didn't like the looks, but they grew on me. He wasn't looking at my scars or my erratic mood swings, so that made it okay.

Then came the touching. He'd grip my arm when he laughed at something I said, not tightly or painfully, but more like a miniature hug. That had begun sometime around when I showed him how to skin squirrels without butchering the meat. I couldn't say that I minded the bloody handprints around my forearms.

When he would address the group it all happened as usual, all calming vibes and passion in his eyes, but recently he'd started inching closer to me. That was a single monumental change that only I seemed to notice. Once, eons ago, I was across the room from him. Now our arms brushed with every intake of breath. For the first time in my life I felt wanted.

He always kept me around. I became more intimate with him than his shadow. He even liked testing the barriers of _how close_. It was almost some sick game he played, "Will the damaged boy snap if I'm only an inch away?" I never did though. I liked the sudden attention. I felt spoiled and pampered. No one had ever spent the time to talk to me like Rick had. I became an individual.

There was a niggling bit of my brain that felt guilty for being Shane's replacement. Of course, then I remembered what a total dick the guy had been and any guilt disappeared.

I was always there just over Rick's shoulder. I did my best to stay within shouting distance of him if I could. Somewhere for whatever reason I had taken it upon myself to designate me as Rick Grimes, newly appointed dictator extraordinaire's body guard. Once I even flinched when Dale approached him too suddenly. I've since calmed down a bit.

I think I had developed feeling for Rick a long time ago. Maybe it was when we had to rescue that damned Chinaman, I really couldn't say. The conviction in his eyes just never left and that was utterly intoxicating to me. I needed him safe. I wanted him happy. I craved to satisfy him. I could handle the first, easy. The second and third were Lori's job and I was quickly learning the bitch was a massive slacker.

Sexual frustration could also be a vital explanation for Rick's horrible grumpiness. Besides, the woman was a skeleton, I couldn't see the appeal in sleeping with her anyways. I wouldn't be the best judge of that, playing for a different team and all.

But there Rick stood looking as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Why didn't I just give up? I must be a real sucker for a dominant male…

"Mind if I sit?" he said in that northern twang that used to get on my nerves. What a fucking asshole. He actually had the nerve to ask if he could sit by _me_? I wasn't anyone but the local white trash, what was his deal? What an idiot. Why the hell wouldn't he sit?

"Tch. Sit your ass down Grimes before I have to forcibly sit it for you." I am nothing if not a gentleman. Momma did tell me I should think before I spoke but I never did take those words to heart. However, forceful did work.

"Right." Rick scrambled to the edge of the wall not wanting to fall but also not wanting to have his ass forcefully attached to any sort of rock object. He shifted uncomfortably on the cold surface and hummed a world weary sigh. We had always had our silent drops in conversation but they had always been comfortable. This silence was going to be awkward, I could tell before it even started.

"A walk, huh?" He looked at me like I had asked him if he dressed in his dead mother's clothing and murdered young women instead of if he were taking a walk. Eventually he settled to a nod, not really meeting my eyes. "Would you maybe wanna get back to walking?" I was as much of an English professor as I was a gentleman. My words had this awful tendency to come out all twisted around one another and lacking in the sense making department.

"Oh." Rick glanced over with those unnatural blue eyes of his looking all the like I had shot his best hunting dog. He bunched his legs up under him and stood too quickly. For a second I was worried he would plunge into the dark water at my feet. He didn't look too sturdy.

He was already to the tree line before I decided to follow him. Not follow really, more of catching up to him. It didn't seem fair to leave the man walking by himself out in the cold like this. "Rick, wait." I slipped back into my habit of barking more than speaking. I hadn't intended on it sounding so harsh but it was so foreign in the silence of the autumn woods. It cut through the darkness and bounced off all the trees around us, effectively freezing us both in place. Rick finally meeting my eyes.

"I didn't mean to go by yourself." All was quiet for longer than I liked. He shifted in the sandy dirt and pursed his lips. That dark brow of his pinched with insecurity.

"Yeah?"

"Rick you shouldn't be out here all by yourself. It's really fucking stupid you know that? Are you even armed? I don't see your," I'd moved while talking to him, somehow completely out of my will I had made it within inches of him, my words floating in the dead silent space between us "Python." I heard my voice break on the last word when his enticing eyes broke through my tirade. Had I really gotten so close? Why did I always do stupid things like this?

I swallowed and cleared my throat, "Why are you out here by yourself anyhow? Don't you got a family and a nice warm tent to go back to? 'M sure your wife wouldn't want you out here in the dangerous forest like this. You might not come back alive."

I couldn't be held responsible for my diarrhea of the mouth. I was still pissed from earlier and just thinking about her in _their _tent with _their _son laying in _their _sleeping bag. Why did the only person I could connect with have to be part of a "they"? Stupid skinny bitch…

He shuffled around again and looked down pitifully. "Lori…." he cleared his throat much like I had. "I don't think Lori will want me in her tent for a while."

Had he really just said "her" tent? Not "my" tent or "our" tent but _"her" _tent. I was more than a little speechless but damned if I didn't feel like tap dancing. Best news I had gotten all day. I was complete prick for rejoicing over a failing marriage but this was a long time coming.

"I don't exactly know where I'm going to sleep tonight. Guess I just wandered out here…" I had never been one for reading a situation but it sounded like a cry for help to me. I chewed on my lip a little doing my best not to sound so enthusiastic.

"I still have Mer's old sleeping bag and there's plenty of room in my tent." I gritted my teeth waiting for the slow let down I was sure to receive. My worst nightmare next to being torn apart by walkers was for Rick to reject me. Needless to say my body tensed up for a harsh blow. I knew he would say no and politely decline and walk back to camp, go into his and Lori's tent and ask for forgiveness for whatever she were mad at. That was just the natural order of things there was no use in-

"Daryl, are you sure?" I cut my mental ramblings off and looked back to Rick who was beaming at me. "You would really do that for me?"

"Well yeah. Sure. I mean I washed Merle's sleeping bag out so it isn't so nasty, you don't have to worry about that…" What the hell was going on? Rick just kept looking at me with those rounded eyes and thanked me. He actually thanked me as if letting him sleep in my tent was a favor to him. Damn Grimes could really twist a situation.

And the universal magnetism took another lurching spin in a foreign direction.


End file.
